


I'll Be Waiting Here For You

by bellarke



Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Allusions to PTSD, F/M, Modern AU, no powers, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 23:59:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12692844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellarke/pseuds/bellarke
Summary: Clarice inclines her head just so towards him, and as though the magnets in their hearts have finally come together again, he does the same.





	I'll Be Waiting Here For You

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely in love with this pairing. I haven't written anything in such a long time but I've had such a burst of inspiration since watching The Gifted that I just had to do something. 
> 
> I'm really enjoying how Thunderblink are playing out on screen and I'm thrilled that she called him out on lying to her! Now they're on even ground so whatever their relationship becomes, there's no power imbalance. I can't wait to see where the writers take them.
> 
> As for this piece, I'm not entirely sure what it is. Perhaps it's an extract of a - possible - larger story in the future, but for now it is what it is and hopefully that's something enjoyable for you. In terms of the PTSD, it's very minimal but does make up a large part of John's character in this. I just hope I've handled it sensitively and, if not, please tell me and educate me so I can do it right next time.
> 
> Title and general premise inspired by Ed Sheeran's 'Happier'. Nice one, Ed.
> 
> Onward! x

‘I’m still in love with you.’

Her intake of breath is sharp.

‘And if this is what’s right for you, then that’s okay, because I love you. If you’re happy here then… then I still love you, Clarice.’

He shrugs haplessly, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

‘I am happy,’ she says on cue, robotic, rehearsed; as though she’s been waiting for this moment for months, practised what’d she say in the mirror a hundred times just so she’d be able to keep it together in front of him.

John knows she’s lying. Knows her like he knows the blood in his veins and the scars on his heart.

‘I just love you.’

*

_‘I can’t,’ she says between aching breaths, tears pricking. ‘I cannot do this anymore, John. I can’t keep… waking up in the middle of the night to phone calls from Marcos who’s trying to drag you away from a fight, and I can’t keep thinking that every phone call is going to be the one where he tells me that you’re dead.’_

_He takes her by the arms, pleading, but she moves around him and shakes her head._

_‘I can handle the veteran; I can handle the nightmares What I can’t take is the wannabe-hero, the guilty man who doesn’t understand why he’s alive when others aren’t. I’ve tried to be there for you but I cannot do this anymore.’ She grabs the bag she’s already packed and hoists it up._

_‘Clarice, please -’_

_‘No.’ It’s simple, quiet and it shuts him down._

_‘Everything I’ve been through in my life… you know all of it. You know that I need you to be here.’_

_He shuts his eyes, ashamed of himself as she is, and she takes the opportunity to trace the lines of his face, his neck, his shoulders, his arms… she wants to remember him; she’d be crazy to think that she’d ever be able to forget him. But she can’t be here anymore._

_When he opens his eyes again, she’s halfway out of the door._

_‘Maybe one day,’ she whispers, because the lump in her throat refuses to let anything else out. ‘You’ll figure it all out. But I can’t wait around; I have to take care of myself,’ she tells him, an explanation and almost as an apology._

_They both know she doesn’t need to give him one, but seeing such a man so broken and sorrowful as he is now, she can’t leave without knowing he understands._

_His eyes are not quite dry as he nods._

_‘I love you, John,’ she tells him earnestly, and she lets it rest for a moment._

_‘Please hold on to that,’ she goes on at length. ‘Please be better.’_

_And then she’s gone, and she wonders if John knows that this is killing her just as much as its killing him._

*

‘You told me to hold on to it.’

‘Well I made a mistake,’ she says flatly, folding her arms. John notices the way her eyes dart quickly to the floor and then back up. The fact he can still read her stirs something deep inside, makes him think that maybe, just maybe what was there before could be there again.

No one will ever love her more than he did.

More than he does.

‘We were good together.’

‘We were,’ she agrees. ‘At the beginning. By the end all we did was hurt each other,’ she cuts herself off quickly. She rephrases, taking her time about it as though gathering strength.

‘You hurt me,’ she tells him, and it stings because it’s true. He knows she deserved better - deserves better - and he didn’t give it to her then. But he wants to give it to her now. Wants to show her that’s he’s better now.

‘I joined a group,’ he tells her. She makes no reply.

He takes a turn around her new place. It’s quaint, with pale walls and pale furniture, hard-wood floors and flowers dotted around. There are grey blankets draped over the mis-matched couches and he thinks that it’s just so her, all over. It’s homely and warm and open, but it’s a quiet-kept thing too.

‘Nice place,’ he says, and he means it.

His eyes fall on a picture on the mantle above the fireplace; Clarice and her new boyfriend, arms wrapped around one another and smiling wide; far wider than she had smiled in their own last months together…

John clears his throat and turns back to her.

‘I should go,’ he says.

It’s clear to him now that things between them have long since passed her by and it’s time that he lets them pass him too. It’s time to let go.

Somehow it hurts more than he ever thought possible. But he keeps composed as he walks toward the door, and the toward her.

He’s not sure which of them is more surprised when her small hand reaches out and curls into his. They stand shoulder to shoulder, him looking to the door and her away from it. Her touch, after so long, forces him to close his eyes so he can preserve the feeling of it.

The moment is incredibly still, incredibly quiet.

Incredibly close.

Clarice inclines her head just so towards him, and as though the magnets in their hearts have finally come together again, he does the same.

‘I told you to be better,’ she whispers.

Her voice is soft and it takes him back to time shared underneath bed sheets, when her lips would ghost his skin and call his name, and he’d trace shapes on her bare skin beneath her clothes. She always liked that. He wonders if she still does, but quickly reminds himself that it’s not his business anymore. John forces the thought from his mind, pictures the night she left instead to bring him back to reality. He deserves to feel the pain he caused her.

Her fingers tighten around his, as if she’s read his mind and she’s reminding him what he’s learned to tell himself now; that it’s in the past, and he can’t go on blaming himself for things he can’t change. He can only do what she asked.

He can only be better, for her.

And for him.

‘I’m trying,’ he says.

‘It has to be for you and not for me.’

‘It is.’ He opens his eyes and sees her looking up at him, her earnest green eyes as wide now as they were the night they met for the first time. The night everything changed.

‘So that when you’re ready, I’ll be ready too.’

It’s a promise.

He lets go of her hand and in moments he’s closing the door behind him. His hand is still shaking, his nerves sparking off in all directions because of how she felt against him, how close they’d been, how easy it would have been to reach out and kiss her again, falling back into old times and long-perfected routines. He still remembers the softness of her lips on his own from such a long time ago.

He passes Clarice’s new boyfriend in the hall, just before he leaves the building.

*

It’s two months later when he’s leaving group that he sees her again. She’s waiting for him after the session, leaning against the doorframe of the room opposite and looking perfectly at ease. Her purple hair is flowing, long and soft despite the hot summer air, and there’s a gleam in her beautiful, beautiful eyes.

She’s looking for him in the crowd and smiles when she finds him, and he thinks his heart might burst.

She pushes off from the door frame and meets him in the middle of the hallway.

‘Marcos told me the place,’ she says, by way of explanation.

John just looks at her, watching the dimples in her cheek move as she speaks, taking in the lightness of her. At length, after they’ve spent time standing, just being, she inclines her head quickly towards the exit where people are leaving, and then back up at him.

‘Are you ready?’ She asks.

It’s so much more than it is.


End file.
